


He Lives

by hrhowling



Series: Who Said Life was Easy? [2]
Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Non-Graphic Violence, Solomon Lives, post-TDOTL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 14:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11083995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhowling/pseuds/hrhowling
Summary: He doesn’t get sliced in half by the Godkiller sword.





	He Lives

**Author's Note:**

> I was very, very disappointed by Solomon’s death. Hell, I didn’t even notice it had happened until I re-read the final chapters of TDotL several more times. What the hell, Landy?
> 
> So yeah. As if WSLwE wasn’t enough, then I have more denial for you! Enjoy!
> 
> Warning for non-graphic violence. Hint: Darquesse is a bitch.

He doesn’t get sliced in half by the Godkiller sword.

Instead, Darquesse lifts him by the neck and shadow-walks them both to the other end of the city. The buildings are more intact, but it’s as empty as everywhere else.

“How disappointing,” she says, watching him struggle against her hold, clawing at the hand around his throat. He still had his cane, but the shadows he sent at her glanced against her skin like nothing. “I was hoping for a challenge when I tried that.”

His vision is turning dark, and he’s desperately gasping for breath at this point. His struggles are getting weaker with every moment spent in Darquesse’s grasp.

Then all of a sudden, he can breathe. She’s dropped him, and staring down at him with disdain at his spluttering, gasping form. He’s dropped his cane. Where is his cane?

“Looking for this?”

Suddenly there’s lancing pain across his head, and his vision goes white for a moment. When he manages to collect himself, he’s horrified to see his cane in her hand, burning away at her flesh only for her to repair the damage like it was nothing. Did it even hurt her?

She lifted it to her face, inspecting it with a highly unimpressed look on her features. Why did she have to look like Valkyrie?

“You Necromancers really should have come up with a better way to store your power,” she drawled, a sickening grin twisting her features. “Perhaps so that you _wouldn’t_ lose it so easily.”

He felt his gut twist.

“How about I help you with that?”

He was suddenly struck across the head and sent flying into a wall, knocking the air out of him. Groaning, he opened his eyes to see that Darquesse was striding towards him. His cane was gone, and instead a writhing black mass of shadows and metal floated in her palm. There was a sinister smirk plastered on her face.

“Oh, this will be exciting. Let’s see if it works, shall we?”

Suddenly he was screaming, and even after everything went black, he could still feel the agony of liquid metal being forced under his skin.

* * *

When he wakes up, it’s to blinding light and searing agony in his very bones. His ragged screams don’t get very far out of his throat before people are crowding over him, their voices echoing in his pounding head. His face feels wet, and it takes a moment to realise that there are tears in his eyes. He doesn’t know where he is, what’s going on, or even if he’s alive right now. Just that everything hurts and he wishes it would stop.

There are words, and the feeling of something being pushed into his veins, when everything starts going numb, and he slips into a cold, soothing blackness.

* * *

It still hurts when he wakes up, but the world is clearer around him this time. He’s in a hospital, strapped to a bed with an IV and a heart monitor hooked up to him. His mouth feels dry, his tongue like sandpaper, and there are bandages covering his arm. When he tries to call out, it’s like pushing burning thorns up out of his throat, but he persists until a girl with bright blue hair comes in. She calls a doctor, who checks him over and explains to him where he is, and that he’s just woken up from an operation.

“What… happened?”

“You had necromantic material implanted into your bones and internal bleeding. We’ve had to keep you under for a while.”

“How long?”

“It’s been two weeks. We didn’t expect you to make it.”

“And… Darquesse?”

“Gone.”

It’s like a weight off his shoulders, and when he falls asleep, it’s peaceful.

* * *

Valkyrie visits him at some point. It doesn’t go well. He may or may not have yelled at her.

Skulduggery visits every now and then. They don’t talk, and he’s fairly sure that he’s being patronised when the detective drops a jigsaw puzzle into his lap. He uses his shadows to assemble it once he’s able, and sticks it to the wall. On several occasions, he passes out from pain in his limbs, but it’s worth it to see Skulduggery falter in his step when he sees the 3000 piece puzzles on the wall.

Other than those visits, and the vampire who makes his rounds through the hospital every night, he’s alone.

* * *

After three months, he’s recovered enough to leave the hospital. The Irish Temple re-forged his cane for him, but now it’s not just a vessel for his magic. He has a limp.

He leaves the Temple after little more than a week. The cold and damp makes the pain in his limbs worse, so he buys a flat in Roarhaven and acts as an Ambassador for the Necromancer Temples. It’s an emotionally isolated existence; the only people he talks to are Sanctuary and Temple officials, and occasionally passing hellos from fellow residents of the building.

A cat dies in the alley next to his building. Using Necromancy, he accelerates the rate of decay until only the skeleton is left, and like he’d done many times before, he brings it back and names her Claire. Claire is a sulky little brat who scratches his curtains out of spite and leaves piles of dead mice on his doorstep every night. He adores her.

Over time, he reanimates more and more cats until they’re no longer a commodity in the neighbourhood. In fact, some people come to him asking to bring back lost pets or for a feline friend whose lack of fur won’t set of allergies. It’s something to do, at least. He won’t admit to appreciating the fleeting company.

* * *

It’s been five years now. He’s started teaching young Necromancers again, in a school group for natural-borns who don’t want to live their lives in the Temple. A single parent of two has been bringing him coffee in the mornings, and they like making conversation whenever they come to pick up their daughter (she’s five. Her name is Sara. She has two pet guinea pigs) from lessons. He bumps into Detective Pleasant from time to time, but they don’t talk much. The two vampires who share the flat below him have started to ‘guard’ him on his way to and from work. He’s not exactly sure why, but he stays on guard nonetheless.

It’s not a perfect existence. He’s still living alone with his cats, and aside from the vampires and Isra’s parent, he’s not got many friends. His limbs still hurt and he still needs physical therapy, but hey. He’s getting there. One step at a time, right?

 


End file.
